


A Long Way From Home

by TikolaNesla



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TikolaNesla/pseuds/TikolaNesla
Summary: With miles upon miles of space between them, Franz and Roderich exchange emails.(Written for apoaeon as part of the aphgenficexchange on Tumblr.)





	A Long Way From Home

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! What better opportunity to write your aphgenficexchange fic than being antisocial on New Year's Eve, huh? I was asked for Austria and Kugelmugel as parent & child and for “crew of a spaceship”, which I might have twisted around a little. This is also my first epistolary fic.
> 
> Names:  
> Franz- Kugelmugel  
> Elise- Liechtenstein  
> Niklaus- Switzerland  
> Charlotte- Wy  
> Jacob- Molossia  
> Axel- Ladonia

From: franz.g.edelstein@nasa.gov  
To: roderichedelstein@gmail.com  
Subject: Franzy in spaaaaaace!!!

Hey, dad!

I hope you haven’t been locked out of your email account again. Yes, they can send emails from space now. Welcome to the future, they’ve been able to do this since the nineties. I do hope you’re getting this, though. I’ll try and get ground control to call you. Or personally knock on your door. Not like the US government has better things to do.

I hope dry land’s treating you well. I hope you’re okay and that Vienna hasn’t burnt to the ground without me in it and that somehow, since I’ve been gone, you’ve obtained a sense of direction. Give Elise and Niklaus my love, as begrudgingly as you want to, and stop forgetting to feed the cat. Keep baking. Space food makes me miss your cakes. There better be baumkuchen when I get home.

I reckon you’d hate it up here. A lot of work to do and a lot of computers to do it on. Not to mention the “being near people for six months” aspect. Still, the view’s amazing. Makes the Vienna countryside look like shit. Just when you thought the sky couldn’t get any clearer. Almost makes doing spacewalks worth it. It’s terrifying, obviously, but there’s a moment when you look around you and realise that outside your little suit there’s a lot of nothing. Like, so much nothing that the something barely matters. There’s also the weird reality that out of 7 billion people, you’re the only one standing there on the side of a space station. You feel smaller and bigger than you’ve ever felt. I mean, it’s one thing to know you’re floating around aimlessly in a huge ass universe, but it’s a whole other thing to see it. And sometimes I can see all of Europe and I wonder if you’re looking up. If I look vaguely at where Vienna is, maybe you’re looking straight back at me. Then again, probably not.

Also, my hair goes really weird with zero-gravity. And you thought it was a mess before! Don’t get your hopes up, I’m still not gonna cut it. Just because I’m being faced with sobering realities on my spacewalks doesn’t mean I’m ever gonna be less of a stubborn asshole. What’s that word you use? Wayward. Yeah, space hasn’t made me any less wayward. Even if I am technically now part of a government agency. And an American one at that. Actually, Officer Cooper said as much this morning. She said I was "anarchic". She’s probably right.

We have a nice little team. Me, Cooper, Jones, and Oxenstjärna. Or, since this is a colloquial email, Charlotte, Jacob and Axel. Axel and Charlotte draw too, we draw together when we have the time. Or, two of us do. Charlotte does her own thing. I don’t mind- Axel’s nice anyway. I’m really getting the hang of keeping my paper under control. How I took gravity for granted. Jacob’s our commander. He’s grumpy, but he’s an alright guy. We don’t talk much, but he whistles country music a lot. He’s also wanting to email his brothers back home, so I should cut this short.

Bye, dad. I hope you get this.

Ya boi,  
Franz.

* * *

 

From: roderichedelstein@gmail.com  
To: franz.g.edelstein@nasa.gov  
Subject: RE: Franzy in spaaaaaace!!!

Franz,

Thank you for the email. There’s no need to be cheeky- I got into my account fine, thank you. My somewhat tardy reply is for other reasons. No government agencies have come knocking at my door, funnily enough.

It’s good to hear you’re enjoying yourself up there. It certainly is odd to think how far away you are, but it helps that I have some sort of boasting rights about you now. I’m the father of an astronaut, but yes, Niklaus, tell me more about you and your sister’s sheep farm. They’re selling wool. He suggested I make you a sweater for when you come home. Honestly- a sweater. Just because I wear my spectacles on a chain and you’ve grown up and moved into a space station doesn’t mean I’m some sort of grandfather now. He doesn’t even have children of his own.

Enough about me. You’re the one boldly going and such. I hope you’re behaving yourself. Don’t think zero-gravity is an excuse to shirk your table manners, young man. You better eat your freeze-dried ice creams with a knife and fork. It’s good to hear you’re making friends though. They sound like the sort of people you would befriend on earth. If you’re with them for 6 months, you’ll need somebody halfway tolerable.

When you come home, I wonder if you’ll still paint the night sky so much. We may be a little out of the city, but I don’t doubt the stars here pale in comparison to the ones up there. Perhaps it will have lost its charm. Then again, I’ve never been able to predict your paintings. You’ve always disregarded my predictions. Or anyone’s, for that matter. You paint by your own numbers. But whatever you do, I can’t wait to see the things you get out when you come home.

Also, I don’t know when you do your space walks, but I do sit on the porch in the evenings and watch the stars. It’s rather possible I’ve seen you in orbit and not realised- after all, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Maybe you’ve seen me after all. I look up wondering if you’re looking back just as you do, Franz. I know I don’t often say this, but I’m proud of you. And if she could see you, your mother would be too. I don’t doubt she’d applaud your insistence on keeping your hair like that too. With her blood, no wonder you’re so anarchic. Still (and I'm only saying) it really sounds like the convenient thing for you to do.

Stay safe, Franz. I love you.

Dad.


End file.
